Salutations, Serf Wylliam of Duiran,

Please allow me to personally commend you on your artistry, it was commendable given what little intellectual capacity you must possess, much like a child you strive to gain acceptance and this I can in some strange way respect, as it demonstrates you are capable of growth despite the limitions of your breeding. Nevertheless, your offerings are unsatisfactory little mortal, your tributes absent of worth and your totems now strewn upon the desert sands, fractured into infinitesimal specks of dust. Indeed, whilst it could be said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you have fallen short little bovine in your feeble attempt at reaching above your station. It is therefore our obligation as your betters to discipline, nay educate you. Perhaps we will begin by culling your numbers with the intention of reducing the innate weakness that has fallen upon your little hovel in the woods. Conversely, your continued breeding of docile cattle for us to consume at our leisure is worth consideration. Therefore, we will not be constructing great monuments of splendour from your children's emancipated corpses this time, rather in our infinite patience and as a testimony to our omnipotence as your superiors, we will be assisting you in conceptualising the folly that is your inconsequential lives.

Thus, forthwith House Nebre'seir will be formally opening an invitation to you and the other inbreeds to step out of the drudgery that is your forest cesspool and find strength in the gift of immortality. You need only kneel before your Lords and ask for forgiveness. Otherwise you fate your species to the lashes and restraints of all those who have dared to overstep before you.

In Dominance,

Prince Riluo, Nebre'seir


Penned by my hand on the 24th of Severin, in the year 437 MA.